Hobbits, Hovercrafts and Headaches
by orange-sunshiine
Summary: Lots of Johnny Depp characters and mpreg. You've been warned. Sequel to our other story, St. Joseph's Shelter for Men.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just to be clear, this story will be divided into a few different parts, as it is very long. Hovercrafts and Hobbits will be mentioned, maybe not in this part, but later on. This story is also written a bit different than the last one, as it will focus on a particular character in each chapter instead of all interacting at once.

Also, Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go read her stuff!

Ch. 1

It was in the middle of Anakin's first birthday celebration when Heather Rainey, Mort's mother, noticed that something was off with her son. Aside from being extremely quiet, he was very pale and seemed to be getting cold sweats. But when he didn't touch the birthday cake she'd made for Anakin, Heather was sure that something was wrong.

"Mort? Are you feeling okay?" She asked, watching as Anakin spread his piece of birthday cake all over his high chair. "Usually you love it when I make double chocolate cake."

Mort shrugged and rested his head on his hand. "I'm just not hungry."

Heather knew it had to be more than that. Her instincts were telling her that something was wrong, and her instincts were usually correct.

She reached up and placed the back of her hand against Mort's forehead.

"Hmm, you're a little warm but not that much. Why don't you go lie down for a while? Rest a bit."

"Nah, I don't want to miss the rest of Anakin's party," Mort said, noticing that his son was now covering his face in chocolate frosting. That kid sure loved to be messy.

"It's just us, and he won't remember it anyway," Heather said, picking up a napkin and dabbing at Anakin's face. The little boy tried to bat her hand away, but eventually gave up. "I'll play with him for a bit too. We'll have fun. Right, Ani?" She asked the one-year-old. He simply reached down, scooped up some frosting with his fingers, and wiped it on her arm.

"I think that means yes," She said, laughing.

Mort sighed. "Yeah, okay. I'm really tired." He pushed himself up from the table. "Thanks, mom."

"No problem. I'll be right out here if you need me."

00

Mort slept through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Heather let him sleep, thinking he needed his rest. Maybe he could fight off whatever was making him sick if he slept enough.

After a day of playing games with Anakin, Heather put the little boy to bed and was getting ready to go to sleep herself. She was brushing her teeth when she heard Mort's voice.

"Mom…" He called. "Mom… Come here!"

Heather finished brushing her teeth and walked over to Mort's room, wondering what was going on.

She opened the door to find Mort curled up on his bed, writhing in pain.

"Mom, it hurts!" He moaned.

Heather immediately became concerned. Mort was never particularly great at coping with illness, but he usually wasn't this needy either.

She walked over to the bed. "What hurts, honey?"

Mort rested a hand on his lower stomach. "My stomach hurts..."

Upon closer inspection, Heather could see that Mort appeared to be crying. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and Mort immediately crawled over, resting his head on her lap. She began to run her hand through his hair. Heat was radiating off of him and his hair was soaked in sweat. He must've had a high fever.

"Mom, make it stop..." Mort begged.

"Okay, honey, I'll try, but you need to try to calm down, okay? I'm going to go get an icepack to help you cool off."

"It hurts..."Mort groaned as she got up from the bed. "Please make it stop!"

"I'll be right back," She sad. She ran to the kitchen, grabbed an ice pack and ran back to her son's room. He was still crying when she got there.

"Here, honey, I'm going to put this on your head to help the fever," She said, sitting back down on the bed. She sat back against the headboard and pulled Mort closer to her, so he was sitting up with her and resting his head against her chest.

"Shhh," She cooed. "You'll be okay."

Heather pressed the ice pack against Mort's forehead and waited to see if it would help.

For a few minutes, Mort was quiet. Lying in his mother's arms seemed to help him a bit. Then Heather ran her hand over his side. Mort gasped in pain.

"It hurts there," He whispered.

Heather raised an eyebrow. She had an idea what the problem was now.

"Can you lie down so I can see your stomach?" She asked, pushing him up.

"Okay," Mort agreed. Slowly, he moved so he was lying down flat on the bed.

Heather lifted his shirt and began feeling around his stomach. She could see that his stomach looked a little bit swollen, which was odd because his stomach was usually flat. Mort was a tiny guy. She pressed the lower right side of his stomach and he cried out immediately.

"STOP! That hurts!" He hissed.

"Crud... We have to go to the hospital," She said. "Like, now."

"What? Why?!" Mort asked. He was starting to get panicky. Heather could hear it in his voice.

"I think you have appendicitis. Your father had that, too. Had to have his appendix removed. Same symptoms. I'll get Anakin and we'll go."

Mort looked terrified. "Appendicitis? Am... am I going to be okay?"

"Yes," Heather said, nodding her head. "But we really have to leave now."

00

It only took Heather ten minutes to get Anakin and Mort into the car and to drive to the hospital. Thankfully, it was only a couple of miles away.

The car ride did nothing but make Mort feel even worse, and the second Heather pulled up in front of the ER, he opened the door and promptly was sick on the curb.

Heather sighed, rubbing her son's back as he got sick. Anakin watched from his car seat.

"Daddy sick?" He asked softly.

"Daddy's not feeling well, so we're going to take him to see a doctor," Heather answered, watching as Mort dry heaved a few times.

"Come on, sweetie, let's go," She said once he seemed to be done. She turned the engine off, and went around to the back, taking Anakin out of the car seat. She then opened the door for Mort. She wrapped one arm around her son's back, carried Anakin in the other, and together the three of them walked in.

There were several people waiting for the ER doctors, and Heather was worried that there'd be a long wait to get Mort in to see someone. That all changed when he began to dry heave again, moaning in agony as he did so. A nurse stepped out immediately, and led him away to another room. Heather and Anakin followed close behind.

The nurse took Mort's vital statistics, and frowned as she saw that he was beginning to cry again.

"Don't worry," She said, patting him on the arm. "We'll take care of you."

"It hurts," He mumbled, reaching for his mother's hand.

Heather took hold of it. "It'll be fine, baby. I promise," She said, kissing the back of his hand.

"Make it stop," He begged again.

Just then, a tall, older doctor walked into the room.

"I'm Doctor Nargiello," He introduced himself. "And I see we have Mort Rainey here?" He looked over the chart that the nurse had left him.

"That is correct," Heather said. "I'm his mother, and this is his son, Anakin."

The doctor raised an eyebrow when he heard Anakin's name, but didn't comment on it.

"So... The nurse said that Mr. Rainey was vomiting, has a fever, and is in severe pain. Can you show me where the pain is?"

Mort raised a shaky hand and placed it on his lower stomach.

The doctor began poking and prodding at him, eliciting several groans from his patient.

"I need to do an ultrasound," He finally announced. "I think it's appendicitis, but I need to confirm it. I'll have a tech come set up in a few moments. For now, I'll need you to change into a hospital gown." The doctor opened a cabinet on the side of the room and pulled a folded up gown out. He handed it to Heather. "I can send a nurse in to help him if he needs it."

"We'll be fine," Heather assured the doctor.

"Alright. I'll be back to help with the ultrasound in a bit."

With that, the doctor left the room.

Once the door was closed, Heather spoke up. "Can you get dressed on your own, Mort?"

"I dunno," Mort whispered. Tears were pouring down his cheeks once again. "It hurts..."

Heather frowned, and wiped away the tears using her thumb. "I'll help you, sweetie." She sat Anakin down on a chair and began helping Mort take off his shirt and pajama pants, leaving him in his boxer shorts. "Here we go," She said, unfolding the blue gown. "Arms out."

Mort didn't move. He was in too much pain to do so. Heather lifted his arms for him and managed to maneuver him into the garment.

"All done," She said, tying the back of it up.

"Mom, please, please make it stop."

"The doctors are going to help you, I promise," She said.

There was then a knock on the door.

"Come in," Heather responded.

A young woman with long, wavy reddish brown hair and glasses walked in. She was wearing pink hospital scrubs and pushing a machine in front of her.

"Hi," She said. "I'm Maryanne. I'll be doing the ultrasound on you. Dr. Nargiello will be in momentarily, but we can get started." The young woman bent down, pulled a blanket out of another cabinet, and placed it over Mort's legs. "I'm going to lift your gown up so that I can get to your stomach, okay?"

The woman had a very kindly tone, and Heather immediately liked her.

"Mort," She said, rubbing his arm. "Listen to the young woman."

Mort just nodded. He was starting to feel nauseated again.

Maryanne lifted his gown, just as she said he would, and began applying the ultrasound gel. Mort winced at how cold it was.

"Daddy ok?" Anakin asked as the girl began using the wand on Mort's stomach.

"Your daddy will be just fine," Maryanne said, studying the images on the screen.

The door opened and the doctor walked in. He took a seat near Maryanne and also looked at the screen.

"Well, it looks like appendicitis," He told them. "We'll prep him for surgery. It looks pretty bad."

Mort whimpered when he heard this. He didn't like the idea of surgery.

"Do I have to?" He asked Heather, giving her puppy dog eyes. "Please don't make me go."

"Honey, you have to go. They need to take your appendix out before..." She trailed off, not wanting to upset her son even more.

"Before what?"

"Well, if they don't take it, out the infection could spill out and you'd be very, very sick."

"Mom, please, isn't there anything else?" He looked over at the doctor, then at Maryanne.

"Mr. Rainey, I promise we'll take good care of you," Maryanne reassured him. "You'll be on the road to recovery in no time."

Mort swallowed and wiped a tear from his face. "If it has to happen... Mom, can you take care of Anakin if I die?"

Heather sighed. "You won't die, I promise."

"But if I do, please take care of him."

"I promise that if for some reason you died, I would take care of your son."

"This is a routine surgery, Mr. Rainey," Dr. Nargiello said. "We've never had a fatality if we get to the organ in time."

"Okay. Okay," Mort said, taking a deep breath. He winced as even breathing too deeply hurt. He looked at Anakin. "I love you, son."

"Love you too, daddy," Anakin replied.

"Love you, mom."

"Love you too, Mort. You'll be fine."

"I hate to break this up," The doctor cut in. "But we really need to get him in."

"Okay," Heather said, leaning in to give Mort a kiss on the cheek. "We'll see you soon, Mort."

00

As Mort cracked his eyes open after the surgery, the first thing he saw was bright lights all around him.

"Ah, shit, did I have another heart attack?" Mort asked, looking around a bit more. He recognized that he was in a hospital.

"No, you had your appendix removed," came a voice from his left. He turned his head and saw that his mother was sitting there, with Anakin asleep in her arms. "You just woke up from the surgery."

"Oh. Oh... I remember that," Mort said, looking himself over. He lifted his hospital gown to reveal a set of stitches across his lower stomach. "Hurt like a bitch."

"You know, Anakin's right here, so you might want to stop cursing."

"He's sleeping. He can't hear me," Mort replied. "And whatever they have me on feels amazing."

"That'd be the morphine, dear."

"Great. Keep it coming."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Glad you're feeling better. The doctor said he'd be back to check on you soon."

Mort nodded, looking over the IVs in his arms. "Did they say what all these were for?"

"I believe one is saline, one is a morphine drip, and one is an antibiotic."

The door then opened, and Maryanne walked in, once again pushing a cart. "Hello Mr. Rainey!"

"Um... Hi," Mort replied. As he'd been in a pain filled haze earlier, he hadn't realized how cute this nurse was.

"Do you remember me? My name's Maryanne. I did an ultrasound on you earlier."

"Um... I sort of remember," Mort said. "I was in a lot of pain."

Maryanne nodded. "Understandable. How are you feeling now?"

"Wonderful, actually."

"Good. Well, I came in to bring you something to eat. Nothing fantastic, just some soup and a little bread. You aren't supposed to eat anything besides bland food for a few days." The girl picked up a tray from her cart and set it down in front of Mort.

Mort picked at the food a little. "Thanks. I'll eat it later."

"Come on, Mortybear. Eat some of the soup. You haven't eaten since yesterday." Heather said.

Mort cringed at the usage of his mother's nickname for him, especially since she'd said it in front of an attractive woman.

"Mom! Don't call me that. I'm not five."

Maryanne tried not to laugh as Heather rolled her eyes.

"It's a cute nickname," Maryanne said, trying to make Mort feel better. "At least your mom cares about your health."

"Yeah, whatever. Bad enough that she named me 'Morton'," The writer replied, picking up the spoon. He swallowed a few sips of the soup. "Happy now, mother?"

"That's fine for now."

With all of the conversation in the room, Anakin began to wake up.

"Daddy?" He asked, rubbing his eyes as he squirmed around. "You up?"

"I'm awake, little man," Mort answered.

"Oh. Good," Anakin replied. He still looked very tired.

"He wouldn't go to sleep until he knew you were okay," Heather explained.

"Aw. I'm fine, Anakin," Mort said, trying to reassure his son.

Anakin nodded, and yawned.

"Go back to sleep," Mort told him, watching as his son closed his eyes and snuggled up to Heather once again.

"That your boy?" Maryanne whispered.

"Yep."

"He's adorable. He looks a lot like you... except with lighter hair."

"Mortybear was a towhead when he was little," Heather said, grinning.

"Mom! Enough!" Mort said. "It's bad enough that I had to go through surgery, you don't need to say my nickname in front of the hot nurse. I mean-" He caught himself, realizing what he'd just said. "Just... don't use it in front of others."

Heather laughed. "Okay, whatever you say."

Maryanne smiled and blushed a little. "Well, thanks. I'll, um, be back in a little later. Dr. Nargiello will be in to check on you soon."

Once the young woman was out the door, Heather turned to her son.

"Do you like her?" She asked, noticing that Mort's cheeks were turning red.

"She's pretty, and she seems nice, but I'd have to get to know her."

"You should talk to her! She's sweet. She came in and checked on you three times before you woke up. Wiped up your drool, too. You drool in your sleep. Did you know that?"

Mort's jaw dropped. "It's the braces. They... Ugh, she cleaned up my drool?! Fuck, mom, you could've done something about that before she came in."

Heather shrugged. "It's her job, honey."

Mort shook his head. "I swear, Mom, if you weren't my mother, and I didn't love you, and you weren't holding my son right now..."

"You'd what?"

Mort sighed, knowing his threat was a lie. "Just... no more of that 'Mortybear' crap in front of her. Or anyone. Ever."

"No promises, but I'll try."


	2. Chapter 2

**Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go read her stuff!**

Ch. 2

Meanwhile, halfway across the globe, Jack Sparrow was having a terrible day of his own.

His brother Errol had shown up, having heard that Jack had docked his ship in the Port of Dublin, where he was currently living.

Errol was the younger of the brothers, and he also happened to be very handsome, very successful, and much taller. At 6'3", he stood nearly a foot above his older brother.

Unlike Jack, Errol had a job on land, and he made a lot of money. Women fawned over him, and he'd bragged to Jack about having a girlfriend in every nearby town.

Since Errol was his brother, Jack felt obligated to try to be kind to him. That was where all the trouble started.

First, as soon as Errol had met his niece, he made a snide comment.

"Oh, that's right," He began, looking Jack over. "You can have babies. A very masculine trait." He laughed to himself.

"Hey, you had just as much a chance as getting the genetics for it as I did," Jack replied, crossing his arms.

"Yes, but I didn't," Errol said, smiling at his older brother.

Jack rolled his eyes, trying to ignore his brother's statement.

"You know, Jack, I'm sure that there's some doctor out there who can... fix you, for lack of better words. I could loan you some money for it, seeing as how my business is doing so well."

Jack sighed, but before he could reply, Angelica spoke up.

"He doesn't need to be 'fixed' because he's not broken."

Errol raised his eyebrows. "Wow, feisty one you've got, Jack."

Jack opened his mouth, but again Angelica beat him to speaking.

"Excuse me?" She asked, getting closer to Errol.

"Come on, you have to admit, that if you had to choose between my brother and I, you'd prefer me," Errol said.

Angelica was shocked. "You're really full of yourself. Just because you're gorgeous and rich and tall doesn't mean you're better than anyone, especially not Jack."

Errol snorted in amusement. "Right, okay. Well, if you ever decide to have a go with a real man, you know where to find me."

With that, Errol walked back up onto the deck.

00

A while later, Jack went up to get some fresh air. His brother's statements had made him upset. He had always been second best to Errol, even though he was the older one. His father had always preferred Errol, mainly because Errol was stronger and more masculine, and Captain Teague valued those qualities. And now, even Angelica had admitted that Errol was attractive. He wondered what Angelica could possibly see in a man like himself if she thought his brother was good-looking.

He was so lost in his thoughts of self-loathing that he didn't see a rope on the ground. Jack tripped over it, and before he could stop himself, fell over the side of the ship.

The water was freezing, as it was wintertime. It was cold enough to keep Jack from being able to move too much. He was sure that he only had a few minutes, at most, before the cold would get him.

Thankfully, Will had heard the splash.

"Jack? Is that you?" He asked, peering over the rail.

"YES! Help me!" Jack called out.

"Okay, okay."

Within a few moments, Will had climbed down a rope on the side of the boat. Holding onto it with one hand, he swam over to Jack.

"Grab onto me. I'll get us back up."

Jack nodded and held onto Will's back, then Will swam them back over to the side. By now, Errol, Angelica, and Elizabeth, along with a few crew members, were watching.

"Hold on tight," Will said, before asking if those on deck could pull them up.

With Jack's arms wrapped tightly around his waist, Will grabbed onto the rope, and managed to hold both himself and Jack up as Errol and Angelica pulled the rope. When the two finally got on board, Will noticed that Jack was shivering uncontrollably. He frowned, lifted Jack up bridal style, and brought him below deck, Angelica and Errol following behind.

"I'll get him a blanket," Angelica stated, looking around the room for something she could use. She found an old woolen blanket a moment later and wrapped it around Jack's shoulders. He was still shaking.

"S-so c-cold," He whispered, despite having the blanket around him.

"Poor love. I'll get you some tea," Angelica said.

"What kind of pirate can't swim?" Errol asked as Angelica walked out.

"I can swim," Jack mumbled. "The water was too cold." Even though he could speak more clearly, his body was still shaking.

"Too cold? William here was able to swim in it."

Will sighed. "I just reacted, Errol. Jack can swim. I've seen him swim, actually. As for myself, I just love freezing temperatures."

Jack nodded. "See?"

Errol just smirked, amused at how easily he could annoy his brother.

"Crap, I think my glasses fell off in the water," Jack said, just now realizing that they were no longer on his face.

"That's unfortunate," Errol replied.

"I know! It'll take days to get another eye exam and a new set, not to mention how much it'll cost..."Jack frowned, looking rather defeated.

"It's too bad you didn't get dad's genetics like I did. We both have 20/20 vision."

"Are you kidding? Can you even speak ONE SENTENCE without insulting your brother?!" Will asked. He turned to Jack. "Sorry, Jack, but he's really getting on my nerves. He's been talking shit to you all day."

Jack just shrugged. He still felt miserable.

Errol was about to yell something back at Will when he was interrupted by Jack getting up, throwing the blanket off his shoulders, and running above deck.

"What was that about?" Errol asked, confused.

"I don't know. I'm going to go see if he's all right," Will said, walking up the stairs.

Errol followed behind Will. It only took a minute to locate Jack. He was leaning over the side of the ship and throwing up.

Angelica must've spotted him too, because she came running over as well and started rubbing Jack's back as he got sick.

"Why's he doing that?" Errol asked.

Jack paused from throwing up for a moment. "Seasick," He answered, then went back to heaving out whatever he had eaten that day.

"So you're a pirate who can't swim and who gets seasick. Just to confirm," Errol stated.

"Oh my God! Will you shut the fuck up?!" Will asked. "He's sick. Can you NOT be cruel to your brother while he's sick?!"

"It's not your business, mate," Errol said. "Besides, Jackie and I have always had a rivalry."

"You mean, you torment him and he takes it?" came a voice from behind them. Elizabeth was standing there, her hands on her hips and an angry expression on her face.

By then, Jack had finished throwing up, and was trying to get himself together.

"Hey," He said. "I can defend myself, Elizabeth!"

But Elizabeth totally ignored him. "I've heard you talking all day and all you do is say cruel things to your brother."

"Wow. Another feisty one. And beautiful, too." Errol pressed his hand to Elizabeth's cheek, trying to caress her, but she pushed him off.

"Don't you dare touch me!"

"Aw, come on. You're telling me that you wouldn't want a piece of this?" He asked, winking at her.

"Ugh. Never."

Errol shook his head, and went to place his hand on Elizabeth's side. He'd just touched her when she slapped him. He was stunned. And angry.

"So help me, if you weren't a little girl, I'd beat you into the ground."

"You'd have to get past me," Will said, taking a step in front of Elizabeth. A second later, he threw the first punch, sending Errol to the floor.

"You piece of shit," Errol hissed, getting up. He punched Will back, making the blacksmith take a few steps backwards, but he was able to remain on his feet.

Will took another swing, hitting Errol in the mouth. "Try me again," He challenged. "Hit me. See what happens."

Errol hit Will squarely in the jaw, just where Will had hit him, but the blacksmith was faster. He hit Errol again and again, leaving the man bleeding from his mouth and nose. Errol touched his face, and saw his own blood. That was when he decided it was time to stop.

"Okay, okay, I give," He said.

"Good. Don't you ever touch Elizabeth or Angelica again, and leave Jack alone."

"Whatever, I'm done here. Have fun popping out babies, Jackie," He said, hitting Jack on the back. "I'll see you later."

Jack sighed, listening to his brother's footsteps as the younger man walked away. He pulled himself up so that he was standing, and turned to face everyone.

"You didn't need to do that, either of you," He said. "I am perfectly capable of defending myself. In fact, this is MY ship. I control what everyone here does, and I don't want any of you to get in the way again!"

Will, Elizabeth, and Angelica were slightly stunned by Jack's words. Before anyone could reply, he ran off to go below deck.

"What was that about?" Will asked.

Angelica sighed. "He's been sort of moody lately... I'm sure having Errol here didn't help. I'll go check on him. Elizabeth, would you mind taking Angela for a bit?"

"Sure," Elizabeth answered.

The two women walked down to the quarters that Jack had gone into. They found him leaning over Angela's crib and staring at his daughter, who was awake and putting the corner of her blanket into her mouth.

"Jack," Angelica said, resting a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Why don't you let Elizabeth take care of Angela for a bit, so we can have some time to talk?"

Jack shrugged. "Fine. I think she's teething, too. She keeps putting things in her mouth."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," Elizabeth said, picking the baby up. The little girl smiled at Elizabeth and held onto her. "I'll see you guys later."

Once Elizabeth had closed the door, Angelica noticed a total change in Jack's demeanor. A minute prior he'd seemed calm and thoughtful, whereas he now had tears in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Jack?" She asked, wrapping an arm around Jack's back. She led him over to their bed.

Jack was silent, but Angelica could still see tears running down his cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" She tried again.

"I don't know! I guess, maybe I'm a bit upset about today."

"You mean, about what your brother said?"

"He's always better than me at everything. Even my own father likes Errol more than he likes me. You said it yourself, he's very attractive. He's got money, women, and he's tall, too!"

Angelica frowned. "He's an asshole, though. Maybe on the outside, he looks good, but once he opens his mouth, it's all downhill from there."

Jack shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure he'll go tell dad about how my friends had to defend me, and they'll have a good laugh over it."

"They did that because they care about you, Jack," Angelica said, wiping one of Jack's tears away. "It's not a bad thing."

Jack took a deep breath, and seemed to calm down a bit. "I suppose that you're right."

00

One of the first things that went through Angelica's mind as she tried to comfort her lover was that Jack's behavior was definitely odd. Granted, he'd been under some stress, but she'd only known him to be that moody when he was pregnant. And, upon further reflection, she realized that it was indeed possible that Jack was pregnant again.

Angelica was on the deck, trying to think up a way to suggest this to Jack when she heard a small cry from below.

She was about to walk back down to see what was wrong when Jack came running up the stairs, nearly crashing into her as he tried to get to the side of the ship. Once there, he immediately became sick again.

Just as before, Angelica rubbed Jack's back. When he finally finished, he turned towards her.

"Seasick again?" She asked.

"No... My head hurts... I think I have a migraine."

Angelica could see that Jack was squinting, and he raised a hand to protect his eyes from the brightness of the day.

"It's probably because you lost your glasses and your eyes won't focus. We'll go onshore and get you a new pair tomorrow."

"How are we going to pay for that? I'll just suffer. It's fine, really."

"We'll figure it out. Why don't you go lie down? I'll bring you some Tylenol."

Jack nodded, then cringed as the movement caused him more pain. "Good idea."

00

Eventually, Jack managed to fall asleep, and he slept through the night. When he woke up, he felt a little better, but he knew that by the day's end, he'd likely be in pain again.

Jack looked around, and noticed that both Angelica and the baby were nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, he went up on deck to look for them. He was surprised to see Errol there, standing near Angelica and talking to her while she held the baby.

"Errol... you're back," Jack said, trying to hide how miserable he felt at the thought of this.

"Yes, and -"

"And you're talking to Angelica?" Jack asked, looking at them both suspiciously.

"Oh, stop it. You're being immature," Angelica said. "Your brother came to make a peace offering. He's going to take you to get your new glasses and he's offered to pay for them."

Jack's jaw dropped slightly. "Really? Wait, what's the catch?"

"No catch. After what happened yesterday, I got to thinking. I really was rude to you. The least I can do to make up for it is get you a new pair of glasses."

"I... um... wow," Jack stammered, surprised by his brother's sudden change of heart. "That would be great, actually. But I want Angelica to come along, too."

"That's fine," Errol said. "Bring Angela along too. We'll all go together."

"Alright," Jack agreed. He still felt a little suspicious, but with the glare that Angelica was giving him, he decided to just keep his mouth shut.

"There's a local eye doctor who could help you. He opens his practice at ten, so perhaps we could leave a little prior to that."

"That sounds fine," Jack replied.

Right then, he felt that familiar nauseous feeling. Errol noticed that his brother was beginning to look pale, and got out of the way just in time for Jack to start throwing up over the side again.

This time, Errol didn't say anything. He actually looked like he felt bad for his brother, and he proved this by pulling Jack's hair back as he got sick.

"You're not going to make some snide remark?" Jack asked after he'd finished.

"No...I just feel bad for you."

Jack's face paled again. "I feel bad for me too, mate," He said, right before turning back around and being sick for several more minutes.

00

After Jack had started to feel better, the group set out to go get his new glasses. Jack sat in the front seat of Errol's car, and Angelica was in the back. Once again, they'd left Angela in Elizabeth's care.

It took half an hour to get to the doctor's office. During the entire drive, Errol and Angelica carried on a conversation while Jack rested his head against the window, obviously either tired or feeling sick again.

The optometrist was kind enough to squeeze Jack in for an exam, in between a few of his other patients. The exam didn't take too long, something which Jack was grateful for. His head was starting to hurt again and he really just wanted to get his new glasses and leave.

After the exam, the doctor's secretary led the group to a room where all the eye glasses were kept.

"Now, Jack, get whatever you want. Money is no object," Errol said, as they walked in.

"Okay." Jack picked up a pair of blood red frames.

"You like those?" Errol asked, a bit surprised.

"They match my bandana," Jack replied, trying them on.

"They won't match much else, though," Angelica replied. "Maybe you should get a pair like the old ones you had?"

"Or, Errol could buy me two pairs," Jack said, smiling at his brother. "So I have one to wear if I want to switch it up a bit and a backup in case one pair falls into the ocean again."

Errol rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine, you can have two pairs, Jack."

Jack did in fact choose another pair much like his old hipster glasses. Errol paid for everything and the group was told that it'd be two days before Jack could pick them up with the correct prescription lenses in them.

Jack was not pleased with this, and as they walked back out through the parking lot, he made his feelings known. "Two more days of feeling like this?! I'm going to be in so much pain."

Angelica frowned. "I'm sorry, Jack. They have to give you the right lenses though and that takes time."

"Still sucks," Jack said, kicking at the concrete.

Both Errol and Angelica could tell that he was getting moody again, so they said nothing. The three got into Errol's car in silence, and Errol began the drive back to the ship.

Once again, Angelica and Errol noticed that Jack was being unusually quiet, and resting his head against the window. It was a few minutes later that they realized that he'd actually fallen asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go read her stuff!**

Ch. 3.

After several months of parental leave, Ichabod had finally returned to work. He had been excited to go back to an extent, because working made him feel useful, and also because he knew how important it was to Katrina to act as a stay-at-home mom. Now that he was back and getting his full salary, they could live as they had before.

Ichabod's first day back started out decently enough. Everyone had said hi to him and asked how he was doing, and his workload was fairly light. His superiors had requested that he review the precinct's protocols and standard operating procedures, just to get re-acquainted with the rules.

After a morning of reading, Ichabod decided to take lunch at twelve. He and another officer went down the street to a local restaurant. When he came back, however, he found that someone had been at his desk.

All of the drawers were now stuck in backwards, making them impossible to open. Further, all of the photos and papers that he had on his desk had disappeared.

For several minutes, Ichabod tried to get the drawers out, to no avail. Not only had the person stuck them in backwards, but they'd also apparently used glue to keep them in place.

Ichabod sighed loudly.

"Will whoever did this at least tell me where my pictures are?" He asked. The papers could be reprinted, but the photos were harder to get replacements of.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him, but no one spoke up.

"Fine, whatever. I'll figure it out myself."

Everyone went back to doing their work.

An hour later, Ichabod got up to use the bathroom, and returned, only to find that his chair was now missing.

"Really?! How old are you people, nine? Who has my chair?"

Once again, everyone looked up, but no one said anything.

"That's it; I'm going to Mr. Samuels."

Some officers started to laugh as Ichabod stalked off to find his supervisor. Ichabod glared at them, and they shut up pretty quickly.

He knocked on Mr. Samuel's door and the man told him to come in.

"Mr. Samuels, I'm sorry to bother you, but it seems as though someone has glued my desk drawers in backwards, taken the photos and papers off my desk, and removed my chair."

"Really, now?" Mr. Samuels replied. "Let me see."

Ichabod led Mr. Samuels back towards his desk, where he found that all of his papers, photos, and his chair had re-appeared.

"I... Well, look! The drawers are still backward!" Ichabod said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

He felt even more flustered when his supervisor began to laugh.

"Well, Mr. Crane, you're an investigator, yes? Why don't you figure out who did it?"

With that, Mr. Samuels walked away.

00

While Ichabod was trying his best to cope with the harassment at work, Katrina was having her own issues. Ever since Ichabod had recovered enough to be intimate with her, she had been trying to get pregnant herself. Despite her efforts, she'd been unable to conceive.

She hadn't mentioned this to Ichabod. She had hoped that her pregnancy would be a 'beautiful surprise'. She also didn't mention it to him when she went to the doctor, and had several tests done. The result was that she was unable to conceive. Even with medical intervention, the odds of Katrina having a child of her own were slim to none.

Katrina didn't flip out over it. To an extent, she'd expected it. It'd only been some miracle that her mother had been able to conceive her, and she knew that she was much like her mother genetically.

She had a plan, though. If she couldn't bear a child, then Ichabod would just have to do it again. She couldn't see any other options. She'd go back to working if necessary, knowing that it was only temporary, and life could resume as normal once Ichabod had the baby.

Since she was home all day, with no one to watch what she was doing, she took a few hours and carefully replaced Ichabod's birth control pills with baby aspirin, which were of similar size, color, and shape. She knew that he didn't really even look at the medication, anyway. He just took it because he had to. The hardest part had been sealing the package back up.

Just as she finished, she heard Jackson begin to cry. She walked over to her baby and picked him up.

"Don't be sad, little one," she cooed. "Soon you'll have a new little brother or sister to play with."


	4. Chapter 4

**Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go read her stuff!**

Ch. 4

Gilbert was getting frustrated. It was his first day back at work, and while he'd gotten through it, he was very tired. He wasn't used to working eight hours a day on his feet anymore. When it was six o'clock, and time to go back home, he'd walked out to his truck to find that during the day, the doors had frozen shut. It'd been a brutal winter so far, but he'd never had this type of thing happen.

After close to an hour of trying to open the door, Gilbert was even more tired than before. He knew he'd never be able to get it open, and was sure that Becky was probably worried about him. He should've been home by then.

Sighing, he walked back into the supermarket, hoping to catch one of the other guys working there. Maybe they could help.

Thankfully, one of the guys who stocked the shelves was nearby. He was a bit younger than Gilbert- 17 or 18 years old- and stronger. Gilbert was friends with him.

"Hey, Darrin, can you help me out?" Gilbert asked.

Darrin turned around from the shelf he was stocking to face his coworker. "Aren't you supposed to be home now?"

"My truck's doors froze shut and I can't get them open."

Darrin nodded. "I'll help you out."

Gilbert thanked him, and led the younger boy out to where he had parked. "I tried for an hour."

Darrin looked the doors over and then, in one move, grabbed onto the handle and pulled the door open.

"Seriously?" Gilbert asked, annoyed. "It only took you one try."

Darrin shrugged. "What can I say? I've got the magic touch."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Right. Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"No problem. See ya tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah, bright and early at eight," Gilbert said, getting into the truck.

"Have a good night, buddy," Darrin told him as he turned and headed back inside.

00

When Gilbert finally did get home, he found Becky waiting there in a state of panic.

"Where were you?!" She asked nervously. "You were supposed to be back an hour ago!"

"The doors on my truck froze shut and I had to get someone to help me open them," Gilbert said, taking off his scarf and jacket.

"I was so worried that something happened to you. That maybe you'd gotten hurt. I know it's been a while since you've been working... I really don't mind doing it, Gilbert. Really. Maybe you should just stay home with Tommy."

Gilbert stared at Becky as she rambled, waiting until she stopped.

"I'm fine, Becky. I'm tired but I can handle it. I want you and Tommy to have a good life."

Becky frowned. "I guess I'm just worried about you. After all you went through being pregnant, and then the problems that we had with Tommy... I don't want you to get sick or too tired or anything like that."

Gilbert smiled at his girlfriend and pulled her into a hug. "Well thank you for being so concerned, but I promise, it's alright. I'll let you know if I start feeling worn down, okay?"

Becky nodded. "Alright, fine."

"Good. Where's Tommy?"

"He's taking a nap. He had a long day. We did a lot of playing with the building blocks and he's been crawling everywhere. I think he's going to take his first steps any day now."

Gilbert's face lit up when he heard this. "Really? Try to get it on video if you can. Wow, it's amazing how fast kids grow... It seems like yesterday that he couldn't even sit up on his own."

"Yup. He's a smart boy, just like his daddy," Becky said. "By the way, Joon called. You know, Sam's wife?"

Gilbert nodded. "I haven't talked to Sam in a while. How are they doing?"

"They're okay. Joon said that Esther is crawling and can say a few words, and that Edward's still living with them and that now he's in art school."

"That's great. I'm really happy that that worked out for them."

"They wanted to know if we could come by for dinner on Saturday evening. Said they had some big news to announce. Are you working that day?"

"Just until two. Tell them we can go. It'll be nice to see them again, and maybe Tommy will get along with the other kids there."


	5. Chapter 5

**Phish Tacko beta'd this. She's awesome!**

Ch. 5

Edward was definitely not having a good day. He had gone to class, like usual, but there had been some problems. Namely, the eighteen-year-old who sat near him had gotten him in trouble, saying that he'd messed up her project with his scissors.

In reality, the girl had messed up her project herself. She just didn't like Edward because he was different, and she didn't want him in the class anymore.

So, the professor had asked Edward to stay behind after everyone left. And here he was, sitting in the corner, hunched over, eyes focused on his scissors. He seemed extremely nervous. The professor had reprimanded him and had refused to listen to his side of the story. He then told Edward that he was going to be calling in Sam and Joon to have a conference before they could take Edward home.

Edward was very scared about what Joon and Sam might say. They had always been so nice to him, but he felt that they might get mad that he was in trouble. He really hoped that they didn't ask him to leave, because he really had nowhere else to go.

After what felt like hours of waiting, Joon and Sam finally walked through the door to the classroom.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Dawson. I'm Professor Delaport. Please have a seat." He motioned to two chairs that he'd pulled in front of his desk.

"Why is Edward sitting in the corner?" Joon asked, not bothering to sit down.

"Well, you see, there was an incident with another student earlier. That's why I've called you here, and that's why Edward is in the corner."

"I think he should be here to hear anything that you have to say about him," Sam said.

The professor didn't seem pleased by this, but nonetheless called Edward over. The boy walked slowly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Eventually he stopped, standing next to Joon. She wrapped an arm around him in an attempt to help him feel less nervous.

"Sam, go get Edward a chair, will you?"

Sam nodded, and pulled a chair away from a table, putting it in between himself and Joon. The three sat down together.

"So, what's this incident you've mentioned?" Joon asked.

"Another student has claimed that Edward destroyed her sculpture in class earlier."

"I didn't touch her stuff." Edward protested. "I really didn't. She did it herself. She just doesn't like me."

Sam rested a hand on Edward's knee, as he could see that his friend was starting to shake nervously.

"Though Edward is a nice boy, I doubt that another student would just randomly make up lies about him," The professor replied, giving Edward a nasty look.

Edward just sighed, knowing that he was not getting anywhere.

"Did you actually see him destroy her project?" Sam asked.

"Well... no... but…"

"Did someone else besides the girl see him destroy it?"

"No... but Mr. Dawson, it's highly unlikely that she'd"-

Sam shook his head. "Not buying it. Edward may be a bit different but he is a good man and he would never hurt anyone else, or destroy someone else's things on purpose."

"I agree," Joon said, rubbing Edward's back. "He's a good person and I don't believe your story."

The professor began to look angry. "Nonetheless, he cannot stay in this class."

"Sir, we paid for Edward to take this class. You can't just throw him out because you dislike him, which is the reason that I think you're doing it," Joon protested. "You have no proof of the accusations being made."

Edward shook his head. "It's okay," He said softly. "They don't want me here anyway."

Joon sighed. "This isn't right."

Edward just glanced down again, staring at his scissors.

"Let's discuss this amongst ourselves. If Edward wants to stay here, then we're going to fight you on this, professor," Sam said, feeling anger building up inside of him. He was generally a happy person, but seeing his friend be mistreated really set him off. "Come on, Edward, Joon, let's go."

Joon and Edward stood up, and the three walked out of the classroom and towards Joon's car. The ride back home was silent, with Sam thinking about the situation and Edward just staring out the car window sadly.

00

Edward remained quiet for the rest of the afternoon, not speaking until dinner time.

"Have you given any thought about whether you want to go back to class or not?" Sam asked as he alternated between feeding Esther and eating his dinner. Joon was busy feeding Victor and Vivienne.

Edward shrugged. "I don't think I should go back. But I feel guilty because you spent money on the class for me, so I'll go if you want me to go."

"We don't want you to do anything that you don't want to do," Joon said. "It's not about money. However, if you do go back to class, you'll be setting an example of how strong you are for it."

"They're just going to get me in trouble again, though."

"It's up to you. If you stay home, you'll let them win, but that's okay. We just want to you be happy." Sam replied.

Edward sighed, obviously conflicted.

"Hey, just think about it for a bit, and let us know. Neither of us will be upset either way."

"Okay," Edward said, still not looking up at anyone. Rather, he concentrated on trying to stab his food so that he could eat it.

Everyone was silent once again, until Joon spoke up.

"So, Gilbert, Becky, and Tommy are going to come over Saturday evening."

Edward and Sam both perked up a little. They both missed their friends, Sam especially.

"You talked to them? That's wonderful. I wonder how Tommy's doing," Sam said.

"I called Becky earlier, just to catch up with her. They're doing pretty good. Gilbert's back at work, and Becky is staying home with Tommy."

"It'll be nice to see them again," Edward said quietly.

"They'll be here around six. I told them that we'd take care of everything."

"Sounds great," Sam said. "I can't wait to see them again."


	6. Chapter 6

**Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go read her stuff!**

Ch. 6

Saturday evening, Gilbert drove himself, Becky, and Tommy to the Dawson's house. They arrived exactly on time and were greeted by Sam and Joon at the door. Joon was holding Vivienne and Vincent, while Sam had Esther in his arms. Gilbert could see Edward sitting on the couch behind them.

"Welcome!" Sam said, grinning at Gilbert. "It's so great to see you guys again!"

Gilbert smiled back. "It's nice to see you too. May we come in?"

"Oh, yeah! Sorry!" Sam said, moving out of the way to let them in. He was so excited to see his friends that he forgot how cold it was outside.

Becky followed Gilbert inside, holding Tommy in her arms.

"Hey Edward!" Becky said, walking towards the dark-haired man. She noticed that his once wild hair had been brushed out, and was now styled nicely. It was long enough to touch his shoulders and fit his face very well. "You look nice. Did Joon brush out your hair?"

Edward smiled and blushed a little. He was still not really used to people complimenting him.

"She helps me brush it every morning before I go to class," He answered, scissors twitching nervously.

"That's nice of her. How's school going? I bet you've made some amazing sculptures!"

Edward's face fell a little at the mention of school. He opened his mouth to reply when Joon spoke up.

"Edward has had some problems with the other people there. They can be really mean sometimes. He's still deciding whether he wants to go back."

Edward nodded in agreement.

"Ah, I see," Becky said. "Well, fuck 'em. Don't let others bring you down, Edward. You're a good person and you have a lot of talent."

Edward smiled again. "Thank you."

Soon enough, Sam, Joon, Gilbert and the rest of the kids had joined Becky and Edward in the living room. They all sat down and put the kids down to play, as Joon had left toys out for them.

The four children seemed to be doing well at sharing.

"Vincent and Vivienne still look so much like you," Gilbert said, noting that both twins still had very pale skin, very dark eyes and black hair. Both of them had perfect features, much like Edward.

"They're beautiful children," Becky added.

"Thanks," Edward replied.

Esther and Tommy seemed to get along very well. Sam and Joon had dressed Esther in a red and white dress, and Tommy was dressed in a tiny pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt.

"Looks like they've become friends," Sam said as Esther handed Tommy one of the blocks she was playing with. Tommy took the block, looked it over, and began attempting to stack it on top of another one.

The adults talked for a while as they watched the children play, with Joon getting up to check on dinner occasionally. When it was ready to be served, she led everyone to the dining room area, where she and Sam began to set the babies into their high chairs. Becky sat Tommy on her lap.

Joon went into the kitchen and bought out the first of several plates. She'd made a chicken casserole with mushrooms and some other various vegetables. She also had baked some bread, and had made a few side dishes.

Being good hosts, Joon, Sam, and Edward allowed Gilbert and Becky to serve themselves first, and the three then got their food afterward.

After everyone was settled, Joon asked for everyone's attention.

"Well, guys, we have a bit of an announcement to make."

Everyone turned their attention to Joon, who then looked at Sam. "Do you want to tell them?"

Sam smiled. "I guess so. It doesn't matter. Anyway, we're expecting another baby."

Gilbert and Becky offered their congratulations before asking questions.

"So, who's pregnant?" Gilbert asked, stating the question that he was sure was on Becky's mind as well. Both Sam and Joon looked normal enough, so it wasn't possible to tell who was pregnant that way.

"Sam is," Joon replied. "He's only a month along."

"Answered my next question," Gilbert said. "Well, congratulations to you. It must be very exciting."

"Exciting, yes. A bit of a surprise, too, but what can I say? We're happy," Sam replied.

"So, now that that's out in the open, when are you guys going to be adding to the family?" Joon asked.

Gilbert and Becky looked at each other. Tommy was definitely a handful, and they hadn't given the prospect of having another baby too much thought.

"Well, we haven't really discussed it, but you never know," Becky answered.

"Ah, well, you should do it soon! That way our little son or daughter has someone to play with!"

Becky and Gilbert just smiled, and went on eating their food.


	7. Chapter 7

Ch. 7

It was late on a Friday night, and Anthony and Sweeney were parked on an embankment near the woods. Their car was filled with everything they thought they would need: flashlights, food, water, cameras, and a handgun. The handgun was just in case they got too close to Slenderman, or if he came too close to them.

"I think we should go check out that old shack down the hill," Anthony suggested. "I think it would be a good place to start."

Sweeney nodded. "Sounds like a good idea." He grabbed two flashlights and the gun. "Let's go."

The shack was only a short walk away, but the woods were dark and scary. Not that either of them would ever admit that they were afraid.

The two walked in silence, following a somewhat overgrown path down the hill until they came to the broken down shaft.

"You go first," Sweeney said, shining his flashlight on the half open door.

"Scared?" Anthony joked, grinning at Sweeney.

"No, I just don't want to die if I don't have to."

Anthony rolled his eyes, but opened the door anyway, shining his light inside. He held the door for Sweeney, who, upon seeing that nothing had jumped out at Anthony, followed him in.

Anthony scanned the room with his light. "Not much in here, just some old furniture. Someone must've been living here."

"Hm." Sweeney looked around a bit himself. His eyes caught on something in the corner of the room. "What's that?" He whispered.

Anthony shined is light into the corner as well. It looked like there was someone there... someone just standing there, waiting for them. Someone tall and slender, with suspiciously long limbs...

Suddenly, the shack creaked loudly, scaring both Sweeney and Anthony. The two darted out the door, and began running back up the path towards their car.

Being younger and in better shape than Sweeney, Anthony ran ahead of him, leaving him a good thirty feet behind. They were about halfway up with Anthony heard Sweeney call out.

"Anth... Anthony!" He called, breathing heavily. "Stop!"

"Hell no! I'm not getting eaten by whatever that thing was," Anthony called back, running up to the car.

A few minutes later, Sweeney followed, having slowly dragged himself up the path. He was breathing very heavily and sweating.

"Anthony... you know... I have... asthma..." He panted, leaning on the car door.

"You're just old, Mr. Todd," Anthony said. "Now open the car."

"I have asthma too," Sweeney said, still breathing hard. "And since it's my car, I decide what happens. Get in the trunk, fuckhead."

"Fuck no. Open the door and let's get the fuck out of here. That thing from the shack could be coming!"

Sweeney laughed, but began coughing. "Get in the trunk."

"No." Anthony reached for the keys in Sweeney's hand, but the older man pulled them away too quickly. He was shaking, sweating, and breathing even harder than before.

"Um, okay, this is funny and all, but I think you're not okay. Do you have an inhaler in the car?"

Sweeney shook his head. "It's at home..." He reached up and placed a hand on his chest. His heart felt like it was doing a thousand beats per minute.

Anthony sighed. "Let's go back, then."

Sweeney unlocked the car and let Anthony get into the front seat.

It was obvious from the start that Sweeney was having problems concentrating on driving. He was swerving in and out of the lane, and it was nearly impossible for him to stay true. Anthony had finally had it when Sweeney abruptly drove up onto a curb, knocking over a mailbox.

"Hit the brakes!" Anthony yelled as he felt the car collide with the metal object.

Sweeney seemed stunned, but hit the brake, causing the car to come to a sudden stop.

"Move over, Mr. Todd. I'm driving."

"No," Sweeney wheezed. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You just hit a mailbox. Give me the keys, I'm taking you back to your apartment to get your inhaler.

Sweeney glared at Anthony, but eventually put the car in park and got out, allowing him to move into the driver's seat.

As he sat down, Anthony noticed that Sweeney really seemed to be having difficulty breathing. The shock of hitting the mailbox probably had sent him into a panic.

"Mr. Todd!" Anthony said, gaining Sweeney's attention.

Sweeney looked at him, eyes wide as he breathed in and out as best he could.

"Mr. Todd, you need to calm down. You're making this worse for yourself. Come on, take some slow, deep breaths."

Sweeney nodded, and tried to do as he was told. Anthony put the car into reverse, backed off the curb, and began heading towards Sweeney's apartment.

"Come on, you're doing good," Anthony said, noticing that Sweeney was really concentrating on calming down. "You're doing a good job. In and out."

Sweeney nodded again. "...Trying..."

"We're almost there. You're going to be fine." Anthony rested a hand on Sweeney's knee.

"Another mile to go," He announced a minute later. "Just keep breathing like that."

"...Okay..." Sweeney replied, closing his eyes.

Anthony got to his destination even sooner than he'd expected. He pulled up, parked the car, and walked around to help Sweeney out of the passenger side. He wrapped an arm around Sweeney's waist and led him inside.

It took all of Anthony's strength, but he managed to get Sweeney through Mrs. Lovett's shop and up the stairs into his apartment. Once there, he helped him to the sofa and told him to sit down.

"Where's your inhaler?" Anthony asked, looking around. There were clothes and toys strewn around everywhere. Obviously, Sweeney had not cleaned up in a while.

"Nightstand in my bedroom," Sweeney gasped.

"Okay." Anthony ran into the bedroom and found the inhaler quickly. He ran back out, and handed it to Sweeney. The barber held it to his mouth, but his hands were shaking, making pressing the button on it next to impossible.

Anthony took the inhaler from Sweeney's hand and held it up to his mouth. "Ready?"

Sweeney nodded.

Anthony pushed the button. "Take a deep breath," He instructed.

Sweeney focused on inhaling the medicine. Thankfully, it started to take effect within seconds. Anthony watched as Sweeney slowly began to breathe easier, calming down in the process.

"Better?" Anthony asked, after a few minutes had gone by.

Sweeney nodded. "Much."

"You need to make sure you take your inhaler with you everywhere! If I'd known that you'd actually had asthma..." He trailed off. "...I should've known. I thought you were just faking it." Anthony looked upset.

Sweeney shook his head. "No." He yawned. "I wasn't... I'm… tired."

"Just relax. Why don't I get your laptop and we can browse the internet?"

"Sure."

Anthony retrieved the laptop, and the two spent the next hour watching the Shaytards vlogs. Eventually, Sweeney started to fall asleep. Anthony closed the laptop.

"Go to sleep, Mr. Todd. I'll call Johanna and tell her that she's going to have watch Emma for the rest of the night."

"Thanks, Anthony." Sweeney yawned again.

"Sure. Just don't ___ever_scare me like that again." The boy grabbed a throw blanket off the side of the couch and pulled it over Sweeney. "See you in the morning, Mr Todd."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go read her stuff!**

Ch. 8

"Alice, can you check on Daisy?" Tarrant asked as he covered his eyes with his hand, trying to shield himself from the daylight pouring through the windows. "I'm feeling sick again..."

Alice frowned, and looked her husband over. He looked tired and gaunt. She knew he hadn't been sleeping much or eating well for a few days now, mainly because every time he tried to eat, he got very sick.

"Sure, sweetheart." Alice walked over to Daisy's crib and picked up the crying infant. She was rocking the baby back and forth when she heard Tarrant move. He jumped out of bed, and ran to the bathroom. From outside, she could hear him throwing up again, just as he had been doing for days prior.

Once Daisy was settled, Alice knocked on the bathroom door, then let herself in. Tarrant was leaning forward, head resting on the seat, and panting.

"Sick again, love?" She asked, kneeling down next to him.

Tarrant whimpered and nodded.

Alice reached over and pulled Tarrant into her arms, letting him rest his head on her chest. He sighed as she ran her fingers through his wild hair.

"Love, I think you need to get Harvey to give you a test... You had these same symptoms when you were pregnant with Daisy, remember?"

Tarrant groaned. "Do you think it's possible...?"

"Well... I mean, we've been intimate, and you've been sick for days now..."

Tarrant was about to reply when another wave of nausea overtook him. He pulled away from Alice and began vomiting again. Alice rubbed his back, and pulled his hair away from his face.

When he was finished, he leaned back against the bathtub. Alice could see tears forming in his eyes. Alice flushed and stood up to get Tarrant a glass of water and a wet towel. She got back on her knees and began to wipe the sweat off of his face, then handed him the water.

"Drink this."

Tarrant took the glass, and began chugging it down, the cold water feeling good on his abused throat.

"I'll talk to Mirana about seeing Harvey tonight," She said as he finished the water.

Tarrant nodded, resting a hand on his stomach. Upon further inspection, he noticed that it wasn't quite flat anymore. Instead, it seemed to have a very slight curve.

"Alice?" He asked nervously.

"Yes?"

Tarrant stood up shakily then pulled up his shirt to reveal his stomach.

"Do you see that?"

Alice studied her husband for a moment. He definitely did look a bit different. She rested a hand on his stomach, rubbing him gently. "I really think we have to go see Harvey," She finally said. "Just to confirm it."


	9. Chapter 9

**Phish Tacko beta'd this. **

Ch. 9

Mort was allowed to leave the hospital the day after his surgery. Before leaving, he'd managed to talk to Maryanne once again and got her phone number.

Now it'd been a week since he'd left, and he had invited her over.

Despite still feeling weak, Mort had put some effort into trying to clean up the house, though his mother had done most of the work.

"Don't overexert yourself, Mortybear," She said as she folded some clothes. "You're still recovering."

"I'm fine, mom," He replied. "Have you seen Buster anywhere?"

The cat had been living with them since Mort had left the shelter.

"I think he's sleeping on the couch."

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure that he didn't get out."

Just then, Mort and Heather heard Anakin begin to cry.

"Guess he just woke up," Mort said, walking towards Anakin's nursery. "Hopefully Maryanne likes kids."

"She seemed to like them. At least, that's the impression I got from her," Heather answered.

Mort picked Anakin up and checked him over to see if he needed a change. "All clean," He said. "Maybe he's just hungry. Do you want something to eat, buddy?"

"Food." Anakin answered.

"Well, that's direct. Okay, let's get you some food."

Mort carried Anakin into the kitchen, Heather close behind. She took out a small bowl and some rice cereal, while Mort sat Anakin in his high chair.

Anakin was in the middle of taking turns throwing the cereal at Mort and eating other pieces of it when the doorbell rang.

"Crap. She's here." Mort said, noticing that he was covered in bits of rice.

"Go answer the door. I'll finish up."

Mort brushed himself off as best as he could and slowly walked to the door. It still hurt if he moved in certain ways and he couldn't wait to get the stitches removed.

He finally got to the front door, and opened it to see Maryanne standing there, wearing blue skinny jeans, and a white Simpsons t-shirt with a royal blue long-sleeved shirt underneath. Her shoulder-length hair was held up by purple hair clips.

"Hey Mort!" She said, smiling.

Mort grinned back at her. Even though her outfit was kind of bright, he actually liked it. It reminded him of something he would wear, minus the skinny jeans.

"Hey Maryanne. I'm glad you could make it over. Wanna come in?"

Maryanne nodded. "Yeah. It was a bit hard to find this place... You're way out in the woods, but it's beautiful here."

"Thanks. It's sort of a safe haven for me, I guess," Mort said, leading the woman inside. "Did you have to work today?"

"I left a few hours ago, gave me some time to go home and shower, and all that. How are you feeling?"

"Better than before. My stitches still hurt a little, mainly if I move in certain ways, and I'm still a little tired, but overall, I think I'm okay." Mort led Maryanne to the sitting room, and they both took a seat on the couch.

Before either person could get another word in, there was a voice from the kitchen.

"DADDY!" Anakin yelled. "WANT DADDY!"

"Is that your son?" Maryanne asked.

Mort nodded. "Yeah, you met him at the hospital. I guess he wants some attention. Do you mind...?"

"Oh, sure." Maryanne stood up and followed Mort into the kitchen. They found Anakin attempting to climb out of his highchair, while Heather tried to keep him sitting.

"Daddy!" The little boy squealed happily upon seeing his father. He opened his arms so that Mort could pick him up.

Mort lifted the boy up, making him smile. He had two little teeth on the bottom of his mouth and Maryanne thought it was the cutest thing ever.

"He's adorable," She said, pinching Anakin's cheek gently. "What's your name, little man?"

"Ani," Anakin said, holding onto his dad a little tighter. He seemed to get kind of nervous around new people.

"It's short for Anakin," Mort explained. "And this is my mother. I believe you've met before."

Heather stood up and shook Maryanne's hand. "Thanks for helping my son at the hospital. It's nice to see you again."

"You as well." Maryanne turned back to Mort. "Okay, I have to ask, did you name your son after Anakin Skywalker?"

"Yep. That's actually his full name. Anakin Skywalker Rainey."

"Awesome!" Maryanne replied. "I'm a huge Star Wars fan!"

Mort's jaw dropped a little. Here was a cute lady who actually enjoyed Star Wars!

"Really?!" He asked.

"Mhmm. Do you have the movies? Maybe we could watch 'em?"

"OF COURSE I HAVE THE MOVIES!" Mort replied way too excitedly.

Maryanne smirked at his enthusiasm.

"I meant, yes I have the movies, and it would be great to watch them with you," Mort said, blushing a little.

"Cool."

Mort just stood there, awkwardly smiling at Maryanne, until the young woman spoke again. "So... you wanna go get them, then?"

"Oh! Yes. Sorry. I zoned out." Mort looked over at his mother, wondering if she would take Anakin for a bit.

As if she could read her son's mind, Heather spoke up. "Would you like me to watch Ani for a while?"

"Please."

"Sure."

Mort handed his son over to his mother, and then turned back to Maryanne.

"So. Movies." He led her into the television room, and started searching through his stack of DVDs, pulling out all of the Star Wars films.

"Which one should we start with?" He asked, putting the pile on the couch near his guest.

"Episode IV. Duh," Maryanne said, sticking her tongue out at Mort.

He smiled at her. "I was going to suggest that too."

Mort picked up the DVD, and started turning on the DVD player. Once the movie had started, he made his way back towards the couch, taking a seat next to Maryanne.

"Do you mind if I sit near you?" He asked nervously.

Maryanne shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I'd like it if you did. You don't have to be so nervous around me! I'm not going to bite."

Again, Mort found himself blushing. "Sorry. It's just been a while since I've been with a woman. And I've never met a lady who loves Star Wars either. And I'm talking during the opening credits, so I'll shut up now."

Maryanne smiled, and patted Mort on the knee. "Just relax."

Mort nodded and sat back. The two ended up watching the movie quietly.

When it was over, Maryanne stood up and stretched.

"That was fun," She said.

"Yep. We can watch the next one if you want. Or we could head out, maybe go get something to eat?"

"I'd like that. Should we go get Anakin?"

"Yeah, I should give my mom a break," Mort replied.

The two walked into the sitting room, where Heather and Anakin were playing on the floor.

"Hello," Heather said, looking up at the two. "Maryanne, good to see that Mortybear hasn't scared you off yet." She flashed the young woman a kind smile.

"Nah, I'm used to weirdness," Maryanne said. "We were actually going to get a bite to eat. We were going to take Anakin with us. You're welcome to come, too, of course."

Heather nodded. "I appreciate the invitation but I've got things to do here. Ani, ready to go with daddy and his friend?" She asked the little boy.

Anakin stood up and wandered over to Mort, taking his daddy's hand.

"Let's go." He said.

Mort and Maryanne couldn't help but smile.

"He's very direct, isn't he?" Maryanne said.

"Yeah, Anakin tends to get to the point." Mort leaned down to pick his son up, the gasped in pain.

"I'd offer to carry him, but I know he doesn't like new people," Maryanne said.

Mort sighed. "Ani, would you help daddy and let Maryanne carry you? Daddy's stomach still hurts."

Anakin looked Maryanne over, before shrugging indifferently. He allowed Maryanne to lift him up, and take him outside towards Mort's car.

"He has a car seat in the back," Mort said. "If you don't mind helping him in."

"I don't mind." Maryanne strapped the little boy into the seat.

"Wow, he didn't even fight you," Mort said, looking on in shock. "He must like you. Do you like Maryanne?"

Anakin nodded. "Good."

"You think she's good?"

Anakin nodded again.

"Wow. Well, that's a good sign, I guess," Mort said as he sat down in the driver's seat.


	10. Chapter 10

**Phish Tacko beta'd this. Go check out her stuff.**

Ch. 10

"Jack," Angelica said as she laid on her side next to her lover. It was a Sunday morning and they usually slept late on Sundays.

"Yes?" Jack asked, looking up at her.

"Jack, I think you need to take a test," She said softly. With one hand, she traced her fingers over his stomach. He was still pretty tiny, but she could see that even lying down, his stomach was starting to round out a little bit. "A pregnancy test."

"What? I'm not pregnant, Angelica," He protested. "Not again."

"I think so. You've been getting sick all the time, and you're always tired, and then there's the mood swings... I mean, what else could it be?"

Jack frowned. "I guess it makes sense."

"I take it you don't want another child?" Angelica asked, trying not to show any sadness in her voice. She may have wanted a larger family but she didn't want to pressure Jack, either.

"Well... I'd love them, of course, but we only recently had Angela. It's a bit soon, isn't it?"

"It's been close a year," Angelica replied.

"But I just got fully back into shape three months ago," Jack said, pouting. He saw the pleading look in Angelica's eyes and sighed. "I'll take a test, then. At least we still have Angela's baby stuff if it comes out positive."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this.**

Ch. 11

Sweeney's day was not going well so far.

It had been a few days since he'd had his asthma attack, and he'd woken up feeling very sick. He just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up for several minutes. The end result was that he felt even more sick, sweaty, and like he was going to pass out.

As soon as he'd pulled himself up, Emma started crying. He sighed, splashed some water on his face, and walked over to see what was wrong.

The little girl was pale, and looked very sick. She'd spat up onto her onesie.

"Crud," Sweeney mumbled, picking her up to clean her off. He'd heard from Anthony that there was a stomach virus going around and that it was hitting young children especially hard.

As soon as Sweeney cleaned Emma up, the baby got sick once again. She started crying even harder. Knowing that he probably couldn't do much on his own to make her feel better, he decided that a trip to the local doctor was in order. So, he dressed Emma up as warmly as possible (it was pretty cold out that day) and began walking down to his car.

"Hey Mr. T!" Mrs. Lovett called out, seeing him walk down the stairs and into her shop.

"I'm busy," He hissed, walking towards the door.

"Okay but-" She started, but Sweeney cut her off.

"Tell me later, Mrs Lovett. I need to take Emma to the doctor."

Sweeney slammed the door behind him before Mrs. Lovett could get another word in. "I was just going to tell him that someone slashed his tires," She said to herself. She guessed he'd figure it out soon enough anyway.

And she was right. About two minutes later, Sweeney came storming back in. "Someone slashed my damned tires!"

"Yes, I was going to tell you that," Mrs. Lovett said.

"You knew that they slashed my tires and you didn't tell me sooner?!" Sweeney was getting angrier, and now Emma was screaming.

"I only noticed it a few moments ago, when I opened the shop," Mrs. Lovett explained. "I'd offer to let you take my car but it's in the shop today."

Sweeney sighed. "I need to get Emma to the doctor. I'll call Johanna. Maybe she or Anthony could give me a ride."

Mrs. Lovett nodded, and handed Sweeney the phone.

He began dialing Johanna's phone number, but only got a dial tone. "What the fuck, Mrs. Lovett? The phone doesn't work."

"You need to dial *81 to dial out," She said.

Sweeney scowled, and turned the phone off, then turned it back on and dialed some numbers. "I'm still getting a dial tone..."

"You hit *81?"

"I just hit *8."

"It's *81."

Sweeney shook his head, and tried again, finally getting it to work. After three rings, Johanna picked up.

"Hey, Johanna," He said. "I need a favor."

"Hello to you too, dad. What do you need?"

"I need a ride to the doctor. Emma's sick and someone slashed my tires."

"You can't take Mrs. Lovett's car?"

"It's in the shop."

"Oh... yeah, we'll be there right away," Johanna agreed. "See you in a few."

00

The ride to the doctor's office was bumpy and made Sweeney feel extremely carsick. He loved Anthony like a son, but the boy was a terrible driver.

After what felt like forever, they made it.

"Can you guys come back in an hour?"

"Sure," Anthony replied. "We'll meet you out here."

Sweeney said his thank-yous and headed in. Of course, the waiting room was totally full of sick children and their parents. He frowned, and took a seat next to a mother who had three small children near her.

"Aww, is that your daughter?" The woman asked, looking at Emma. The baby had calmed down somewhat but was still pale and warm.

"Yes," Sweeney answered. He really didn't want to get into a conversation with this woman.

"She's beautiful. Those are my kids, Joey, Johnny, and Jordan. Jordan's a girl."

"As I can see," Sweeney said. He noticed that one of the boys was busy putting a piece of play-doh in his mouth. "Uh, I think your son is eating the play-doh they put out."

The mother sighed. "Figures. Johnny! Take that out of your mouth!"

The little boy shook his head and stuck his tongue out. It was covered in blue play-doh.

The mother shook her head and stuck her fingers into his mouth, pulling out a huge piece of the blue dough.

"Ew," Sweeney said, as the woman put the play-doh back into its container. Just the sight of it made him want to throw up, and it took all of his will to keep whatever was left in his stomach down.

"Sorry about that, they don't like to follow the rules much."

"Right..."

Right then, the second little boy looked at Sweeney. He had an odd look on his face. Sweeney knew that look. Emma looked like that right before she sneezed.

"Ugh, what the hell, woman? Can't you control your kids?!" Sweeney asked as the little boy proceeded to sneeze on him repeatedly, getting spit and snot all over him.

The woman 'hmphed' and sighed and took her kids to another seat, but Sweeney was now in an even worse mood.

"Great," He thought to himself. "If I wasn't sick before, I'll definitely be now."

00

Forty five minutes later, the doctor was finally ready to see Emma. The man was quite old, and Sweeney wasn't sure that he could even see properly, or hear for that matter, as he kept addressing Emma as "Emila".

"Looks like she has that stomach virus that all the kids are getting," The doctor said, after examining her.

"Well, no kidding. Can you give her something for it? She's been crying all morning."

"There's not much you can do to stop the vomiting. Whatever's bothering her has to come out. Just make sure she stays hydrated."

"So there's really nothing you can do." Sweeney stated, just to confirm.

"Not really, no."

"Great. What a wonderful waste of time."

The doctor shrugged. "Sorry. You'll get a better feel for these things as time goes on. She's your first child?"

"Second."

"Oh."

Sweeney could tell that the doctor was thinking something along the lines of 'Well, then why are you so inept as a parent still?' but was keeping his mouth shut.

"We should be going," Sweeney said, picking Emma up and walking towards the door.

"Wait!" The doctor called after him.

Sweeney turned around.

"Before you go, that'll be fifty dollars."

00

Anthony drove Sweeney and Emma home in silence. Sweeney was so stressed out that he feared if he opened his mouth, he'd say something that he would regret.

Once he was back at his shop, he proceeded to carry Emma inside. It was midday, so the lunchtime rush was on. As he was walking through Mrs. Lovett's restaurant, a customer bumped into him, causing Sweeney to almost drop Emma.

"Hey, watch where the fuck you're going!" The guy spat.

"Can't you see that I am holding a baby? You almost made me drop her!" Sweeney yelled back.

"Oh, are you one of those weird mpreg guys? You're all freaks of nature. "

"...That's it. I'm going to kill you," Sweeney said. "Mrs Lovett, take Emma." He pushed the baby into Mrs. Lovett's arms and turned back to the man.

"You're going to take me on?" The guy asked, smirking at the idea. He was easily six or seven inches taller than Sweeney, and much more muscular. The rest of the crowd at the restaurant turned to watch what was going on. "Give it your best shot."

Sweeney scowled and took a swing at the man's face, but the man moved out of the way, causing him to nearly fall over. The barber was still determined, though, and attempted to throw another punch. This time, he hit the guy, but it wasn't that hard. The man barely flinched. Instead, he reached his hand around Sweeney's neck, and shoved him up against a wall.

"I'd advise that you stop this now," The man said, grinning as Sweeney struggled to breathe. If only he'd had his razors on him, he could've cut the man... But he'd left them upstairs.

Finally, when it became clear to Sweeney that this was just not a fight that he could win, he gave up.

"Okay," He gasped.

The man dropped Sweeney, leaving him leaning up against the wall and panting as he tried to catch his breath. He walked out before Sweeney could do anything else, and soon enough, the crowd turned their attention back to their food.

Mrs. Lovett came over with Emma in her arms, helped Sweeney up, and took him back to her parlor.

"It's not even one o'clock and this has been one of the worst days ever," Sweeney said, looking rather sad. This surprised Mrs. Lovett a bit. Usually Sweeney just got angry. She wondered if having a second child had opened him up a bit.

"Aw, it's okay," She said, putting Emma down on the couch. "Everyone has bad days sometimes. It's just part of life. It'll get better." She began rubbing Sweeney's back gently, trying to comfort him as he rested his head in his hands.

A few second later, Mrs. Lovett was surprised to see tears rolling down Sweeney's cheeks. She looked at him, unsure of what to do. She didn't know if Sweeney would get angry if she tried to hug him, but her question was answered when he spoke up in a soft, sad voice.

"I need a hug," He whispered, giving the baker the most pathetic look she thought she'd ever seen.

Mrs. Lovett nodded, and wrapped her arms around Sweeney, slowly rocking him back and forth. Neither of them said anything. Mrs. Lovett just concentrated on making her friend feel better, while Sweeney enjoyed the feeling of closeness with another person.

After a few minutes, Sweeney began to calm down, feeling much more relaxed now that he'd let go of some of the stress he'd been feeling. Emma started to cry, so Mrs. Lovett let go of Sweeney and went to check on the baby.

"She's sick again, poor little girl," Mrs. Lovett reported. "If there weren't so many people here, I'd try to help you out."

Sweeney shrugged. "It's all right. It's my job." He picked the baby up. "I'm going to take her upstairs."

"Okay, Mr. T. Good luck."

"Thanks, Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney said. "And thanks for being there for me, too."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Many thanks for Phish Tacko for beta'ing this.**

Ch. 12

It was exactly a month to the day that Katrina had switched Ichabod's pills that he started exhibiting symptoms. Of course, with his bad luck, they came at the worst times. His first experience had occurred a few minutes after he'd settled into his desk at work, when a wave of extreme nausea had overtaken him. He knew he wouldn't make it to the bathroom in time, and had ended up grabbing the bin under his desk and throwing up into it.

As he got sick, everyone around him stared. Some laughed.

"Got another bun in the oven?" One of them had asked. Ichabod could hear others snickering at the question.

"I must've eaten something funny," Ichabod said once he was finally able to sit back up. His stomach still hurt, but he didn't think that he had much to puke up anymore.

"Right. It's okay, Crane. We'll all make sure to keep you on light duty."

Ichabod sighed. "I'm not pregnant again. Can't you all just leave me alone?!"

Just then, Mr. Samuels walked in.

"Everyone, back to work!" The inspector yelled.

The crowd began to disperse, people mumbling to themselves as they walked back to their desks.

"Crane, in my office," Mr. Samuels then said.

Ichabod did his best not to roll his eyes. Of course, he couldn't just be left alone.

He pushed himself up and followed his superior in.

"Close the door and take a seat," Mr. Samuels instructed.

Ichabod did as he was told, sitting down on one of the chairs in front of the inspector's desk.

"How may I help you, sir?" He asked meekly.

"I just wanted to speak to you, is all. Get an understanding for what's going on. Since I transferred here, I've heard the other constables... picking on you, for lack of better words. And you don't seem to fight back. Did you ever end up getting your desk drawers out?"

Ichabod gritted his teeth. "No, I did not." Then he took a deep breath. He was already starting to feel sick again, but he was trying to push the feeling down. "A little less than a year ago, I gave birth to a son. I had not known that I had the mpreg gene, and it was a bit of a surprise to have become pregnant. The others are making fun of me because of that. They feel that it makes me less masculine."

"I gathered that," The inspector replied. "I'll be watching them to ensure that it stops. The men are to respect their fellow coworkers. My only other question is, are you pregnant now?"

"I.. um.. not that I know of," Ichabod answered.

"Alright. I'll take your word for it. For now, though, I think you should go home for the day. You're clearly not well."

"I'm fine," Ichabod replied, getting annoyed. "I can continue to work-"

The inspector just glared at him, so Ichabod gave up.

"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow, then."


	13. Chapter 13

Ch. 13

Gilbert knew that something was wrong before anyone else had figured it out.

At first, he'd felt somewhat sick. Just a slight feeling of nausea, mainly in the mornings and sometimes after lunch. It wasn't anything big, just enough to make him uncomfortable.

Then, a week later, he started getting sick in the mornings. He'd just make it to the bathroom after he woke up, throwing up everything he'd eaten the night before. Often, he'd be left sore and sweaty, feeling hot but cold at the same time.

By the second day of this, Gilbert knew what was wrong. He was pregnant again, he just knew it. He hadn't had morning sickness this bad last time, but he remembered that Sam had. Maybe now it was his turn to suffer.

He knew that Becky would catch on soon, and he figured that he may as well confirm it before she asked. So, that day at work, he discreetly bought a pregnancy test and snuck it into the bathroom with him on his break. He locked the door behind him.

The pack of tests that he bought contained three separate sticks, and he took all three to make sure there was no error. Just as he had suspected, every single test came out positive.

Sighing, Gilbert wrapped the tests in paper towels before throwing them out. He didn't want any of his coworkers to find them in the trash. When he was finished, he leaned up against the wall, resting a hand on his stomach. It hurt a little. He'd been sick right after lunch, and his muscles were sore. He rubbed his stomach gently. He wasn't showing, and he probably wouldn't be for a while. At least he could continue working for a few more months.

Suddenly Gilbert began to wonder what Becky would say. They hadn't really discussed having more children. And now, that he thought about it, maybe it would be good to hurry up their wedding plans before this next baby came along. He'd been hoping to have a big ceremony, but considering there would be another mouth to feed in eight months, he wondered if it would be best just to get married at town hall.

A knock on the bathroom door brought Gilbert out of his thoughts.

"Gilbert? You okay in there?"

It was Darrin.

"You've been in there for half an hour."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine," Gilbert responded. "Just, uh, ate something bad earlier. I'll be out in a few."

"Okay."

Knowing that he had to go back out to work momentarily, Gilbert walked over to the sink and splashed some water on his face. He was still very tired, and the stress of the positive test wasn't making him feel any better. He decided that he'd tell Becky that night. Get it out of the way. Hopefully, she'd be okay with it.


	14. Chapter 14

Ch. 14

Anthony was sitting on the couch, watching television in the small trailer that he and Johanna lived in. They found it was cheaper and easier to live in a trailer than in an apartment. For now, they were parked in a decently maintained trailer park, not too far from where Sweeney lived, so that Johanna could see her father and sister and so Anthony could see his best friend.

Unfortunately, their neighbors had been giving them problems.

Johanna had tried to be nice when the family, two parents with eight children, moved their trailer next door. She'd brought them over a tuna casserole on her finest casserole dish as a welcome gift. However, the people had insisted on parking their trailer directly next to Anthony and Johanna's trailer, so they could be heard at all hours of the night.

The young couple finally had enough when the children accidentally shot the seat in Anthony's hovercraft with an arrow, of all things. That hovercraft had cost Anthony a good deal of money, what with its custom neon yellow paint job and all.

"You need to talk to them," Johanna said as they sat down for breakfast. "You need to go over there and tell them to move."

"But every time I try, they give me shit!" Anthony replied, stabbing at his bacon. "They're horrible, that whole group."

"So give 'em shit back! Give 'em enough shit to create a shit storm! And get my casserole dish back while you're there."

Anthony sighed. "I'll try again this morning, but I'm telling you, they won't listen. Especially not the fatass wife. She can barely move, so she doesn't want to be bothered with anything."

"Well, try anyway."

"Fine, I will."

00

Anthony knocked on the neighbor's trailer door around ten in the morning. He could hear someone - the father- yelling from inside.

"BILLY JOE! MARY SUE! BRADLEY JIM! ONE OF YOU KIDS GO GET THE DOOR!"

There was the sound of footsteps as one or two of the kids ran over. The door opened to reveal a short, straggly-haired little girl, who was missing several teeth.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Hi," Anthony said. "Can I talk to your mum or dad?"

The little girl rolled her eyes. "Ma, it's that neighbor boy!"

There was a loud sigh, followed by a thud as the obese woman in a floral muumuu hauled herself up from the hammock that she laid on. She waddled over to the door, towering over her child.

"What'chu want?" She asked, glaring at Anthony.

Anthony was about to explain why he was there when the woman snorted and hocked a loogie on the floor of the trailer. "Sorry 'bout that. The smokin', you know, it messes with my throat."

"...Right. I was just going to ask if you could please move your trailer a few feet away. We hear you guys all night and it keeps us up."

She grinned. "Hey, Billy Joe Senior! The neighbor boy wants us to move the trailer!"

There were yet more footsteps as the father, quite a large man who didn't seem to bathe too often, walked over.

"Why d'you want us to move the trailer?" He looked at Anthony, then down at his daughter, who was still standing there. "Damn it, Brandy Mae, go get daddy a beer. Why're you still standing there?"

The little girl nodded and ran back inside.

"Now, what's this about moving the trailer?" The man asked again.

"We hear you all night and it keeps us awake. Also, I noticed that one of your children shot an arrow into the seat of my hovercraft. That cost me £500 on Craigslist!"

"How'd you know it was one of my kids? It could be anyone's kids fuckin' with yer stuff." The man replied.

"I've seen your son shooting the arrows with your daughter," Anthony countered. "Listen, I'm not askin' for much, just for you to move five, ten, fifteen feet over, and to leave my hovercraft alone. Also, my wife wants her casserole plate back."

"Tell yer wife I ain't washed her casserole plate yet," The woman said, trying her best to cross her arms in front of her.

"It's been three weeks. It's still dirty?" Anthony asked.

"Well I've got other shit to do besides wash your wife's dirty dishes. And as far as the trailer goes, the answer is NO," The woman spat. She then snorted another wad of snot and spat on the ground again.

"Damn it, Lola, why do you keep doin' that?" The husband asked.

"Stop actin' like you've got so much class," The lady replied.

Anthony just shook his head. He wasn't exactly classy either, but he was hoping that the neighbors would be a little better, and would maybe move.

"Now you turn around and go tell your little wifey that she'll get her plate back when we're done with it, and don't you come back here again! We're staying here! Got a great place next to the septic tank and we're not giving that up."

Anthony sighed and turned around.

"Whatever," He mumbled, walking away.


End file.
